8»3 


A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH 


GIBSON 


This  book  has  been 
digitized  through 
the  generosity  of 

Robert  O.  Blissard 
Class  of  1957 


Q 


University  of  Illinois  Library  at  Urbana-Champaign 


^m 


A 

WOMAN'S  Triumph 


A    TRUE     STORY 

OF 

WESTERN    LIFE 


CHICAGO 
A..    H.  An.cire>A?-s  &.  Co 

1885 


t>-^^ 


COPYKIGHT,   1885, 

BY 

A.  H.  Andrews  &.  Co. 


i 


^IZ 


\- 1  -  G  5  s  w 


o 


^^ 


V       A  WOMAN'S  Triumph. 


\ 


L  "  Pure,  with,  all  faithful  passion — fair — 

X  With  tender  smiles,  that  come  and  go, 

^  And  comforting  as  April  air 

Vi  After  the  snow." 

^       ^•HTHEY  will  try  very  hard  to  win  you 

away  from  me,  dearest." 

K  "  That  they  can  never  do." 

.  v^  "  It  is  true  that  I  am  not  worthy  of  you. 

^      Where  is  the  man  who  is  ?      Hannah,  be 

^'w  patient  with  my  failings  ;  you  know  them 

^      well.    My  life  is  in  your  hands;  you  alone 

can  redeem  me,  for  I  love  you  with  all  my 

\j      heart.      See   what  a  slight,   blue-veined 


652591 


6  A  WOMAJ^'S  TRIUMPH. 

wrist  you  have,  child;  I  could  break  it  like 
a  reed.  Yet  you  are  the  stronger  of  the 
two.  Are  you  not  afraid?  Think  well 
before  you  answer.  I  am  in  deadly  ear- 
nest, and  once  you  are  really  mine,  I  will 
never  give  you  up." 

"  I  am  not  afraid — not  in  the  least 
afraid,  Dick.'" 

"  You  will  need  all  your  quiet  strength 
of  character,  Hannah." 

"  Love  is  strong  and  must  prevail." 

"  I  believe  people  are  jealous  when  they 
see  a  bit  of  honest  happiness,  there  is  so 
little  of  it  to  be  found." 

"  We  will  triumph  over  them,  Dick." 


A  WOMAJST'S  TRIU3IPH.  7 

"I  trust  so,  but  my  heart  misgives  me. 
We  shall  see." 

All  around  them  are  smiling  fields,  cov- 
ered with  sheaves  of  yellovr  wheat,  and  the 
gray  old  farm-house  beyond  seems  to  doze 
and  dream  in  the  sleepy  afternoon. 

Hannah  was  just  eighteen  the  summer 
Dick  came  to  work  for  her  father  on  the 
big  Mc Clean  farm,  celebrated  all  over  the 
country  for  its  fifteen  hundred  acres  of 
fertile  land,  as  well  as  for  its  owner's  ec- 
centric ways,  and  his  two  pretty  daughters. 
A  close  man  was  old  John  McClean,  of 
Scotch  descent.  He  had  made  his  money 
by  hard  work  and  was  jealous  lest  a  gay 


8  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

son-in-law  should  some  day  after  his  death 
squander  any  part  of  the  estate  he  had 
accumulated  and  of  which  he  was  so  proud. 
His  second  wife,  Hannah's  step-mother, 
knew  well  how  to  play  upon  the  old  man's 
pet  theories,  and  her  own  daughter  Ruth 
had  been  well  educated,  while  Hannah  had 
left  the  district  school  at  fifteen  to  assist 
in  the  housework.  Yet  as  she  was  passion- 
ately fond  of  reading,  her  mind  was  better 
stored  with  general  knowledge  than  Ruth's. 
The  latter,  however,  had  learned  to  play 
a  few  waltzes  and  polkas  upon  the  piano, 
which  went  far  to  convince  her  father  that 
Ruth  was  quite  a  musical  genius,  and  that 


A  WOMJJi'S  TRIUMPH.  9 

the  money  spent  upon  her  had  been  well 
invested.  Ruth  was  a  blonde  with  a  wealth 
of  bright  hair  and  cheeks  like  a  ripe  peach. 
She  was  also  rather  lazy  and  selfish.  These 
faults  were,  however,  not  to  be  wondered 
at,  since  her  mother  humored  her  every 
whim. 

When  Dick  Barry  came,  Ruth  looked 
upon  him  with  a  mixture  of  scorn  and 
admiration — scorn  for  his  poverty  and 
position,  admiration  for  his  fine  figure,  his 
easy  bearing,  and  sunny,  pleasant  ways. 
For  say  what  we  may,  while  it  takes  more 
than  one  generation  to  give  that  noble, 
nameless  grace  which  denotes  the  born 


10  A  W03IA]Sf'S  TRIUMPH. 

gentleman,  it  also  takes  more  than  one 
generation  of  drinking  and  tliriftlessness 
to  efface  the  stamp  of  good  breeding. 

Though  Dick,  owing  to  his  father's 
neglect,  was  ignorant  of  books,  and  poor 
as  a  church  mouse,  still  the  Barrys  had  once 
been  a  family  noted  for  refinement  and 
culture.  The  sayings  of  the  old  judge, 
Dick's  grandfather,  were  yet  quoted  in 
many  a  court  of  law. 

Hannah  was  at  first  extremely  shy  and 
reserved  in  her  manner  toward  him,  persist- 
ently ignoring  the  half  sad,  and  yet  proud, 
glance  of  entreaty  he  was  wont  uncon- 
sciously to  cast  toward  her.  At  their  country 


A  WOMA]Sr\S  TRIUMPH.  11 

parties  and  sociables,  while  she  laiigliecl 
and  chatted  with  a  more  prosperous  rival, 
he  sat  aloof.  Yet  she  could  not  but  divine 
the  reason  why  he  always  disappeared  when 
Frank  Dennison  came  over  with  his  bay 
horses  summer  evenings  to  ask  her  to 
drive,  and  it  pained  her  to  see  him  come 
in  late,  looking  pale  and  haggard.  They 
said  he  had  inherited  his  father's  fatal  ap- 
petite for  liquor,  but  Hannah  certainly 
never  saw  him  in  the  least  under  its  in- 
fluence. To  her  he  was  always  reserved, 
though  watchful  of  her  least  wish,  and 
ready  with  his  life,  if  need  be,  to  serve  her. 
She  was  his  goddess,  whom  he  "  worshiped 


12  A  WOMAI^'S  TRIUMPH. 

in  secret,  and  from  afar."  His  mother  died 
when  he  was  born,  and  Hannah  was  the 
only  good  and  gracious  woman  he  had  ever 
known. 

One  day  as  Ruth  was  making  some  half 
jesting,  yet  wholly  tantalizing  and  imper- 
tinent remark  about  Dick's  quiet  homage 
of  Hannah,  her  father,  taking  his  usual 
noonday  rest  in  the  vine-covered  porch, 
heard  the  girl's  idle  talk  through  the  open 
window.  Coming  in  soon  after,  the  grim 
old  farmer  turned  to  his  elder  daughter 
more  sternly  than  the  occasion  seemed  to 
warrant. 

"Hannah,if  you  are  encouraging  Richard 


A  WOMAJS^'S  TRIUMPH.  13 

Barry,  you  are  preparing  for  liim  a 
bitter  disappointment.  I  am  sorry  a  girl 
of  mine  should  be  so  light  and  wicked  as 
to  enjoy  making  a  fool  of  any  man.  Dick 
has  his  fine  traits,  but  you  know  I  would 
rather  see  you  buried  than  married  to  a 
drinking  man.  Don't  talk  to  me  about 
reform — it's  no  use.  If  a  man  cannot  re- 
spect himself  enough  to  keep  straight  when 
he  is  single  he'll  never  improve  when  he 
marries — rather  go  down  hill  all  the  time, 
and  drag  you  with  him — mark  my  words 
for  it." 

So  saying  the  old  man  strode  away,  while 
Ruth  laughed  and  ran  lightly  to  her  room 


14  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

to  take  a  nap  before  dressing  for  the  after- 
noon. 

Hannah  went  quietly  to  her  favorite 
retreat,  wearied,  troubled,  saddened  almost 
beyond  endurance.  An  hour  or  two  later, 
it  must  have  been  fate  that  brought  Dick 
up  from  the  hay-field  through  the  orchard 
path  to  the  house,  instead  of  round  by  the 
usual  road.  Hannah  had  thrown  herself 
down  on  the  grass  under  the  big  tree  in 
the  orchard  corner,  and  was  weeping. 
Dick,  hurrying  along,  water-jug  in  hand, 
nearly  stumbled  over  the  disconsolate  little 
heap  of  pink  calico. 

"  Oh !  please  pardon  me,"  he  said  softly, 


A  WOJIAN'S  TRIUMPH.  15 

pausing,  "  I  did  not  see  you."  Hannah 
flushed  scarlet,  the  blood  crimsoning  her 
throat  and  ears  which  alone  were  visible. 
Then,  as  she  bashfully  lifted  her  face  and 
made  an  effort  to  rise,  he  saw  that  she  had 
been  crying.  Then  the  big,  reckless  fellow, 
who  was  afraid  of  nothing  human,  trembled 
as  he  stood,  pale  and  stammering,  before  the 
girl  he  loved  madly  and  hopelessly.  "What 
is  the  matter?  who  has  been  treating  you 
badly?  Tell  me,  Hannah,"  he  asked  after 
a  moment's  pause,  as  she  again  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands.  He  tenderly  took  both 
of  those  sun-burned,  toil-worn,  useful  little 
hands  in  his  own.      ^^Please  don't  crv, 


16  A  W03IAW'S  TBIUMPH. 

Hannah,  it  makes  me  feel  so  to  see  you 
unhappy.  Don't,  I  cannot  bear  it,  because 
I  cannot  comfort  you,  and  I  love  you  so 
dearly.  How  can  I  help  it  since  I  know 
what  you  are,  and  see  you  every  day.  I 
ought  not  to  have  come  here." 

She  did  not  reply,  and  he  continued 
•  bitterly:  '^  I  know  I  am  a  worthless  fellow, 
not  fit  for  a  girl  like  you.  I  have  been  fool 
enough  to  think  at  times  that  I  could  put 
by  all  my  wasted  past,  and  with  a  little 
hope  in  my  heart  go  away  to  labor  and  win 
a  fortune  for  you,  so  proving  to  your  father 
that  I  am  a  man.  But  Frank  Dennison 
could  place  you  at  once  where  you  belong, 


A  W03IA^^'S  TRIUMPH.  17 

in  a  pleasant  home  of  your  own.  He  is 
well  off,  and  I — I  have  not  a  cent.  I  see 
he  is  over  again  to-day.  His  bays  are 
hitched  at  the  gate.  You  had  better  go 
m,  Hannah,  it's  not  Ruth  he  comes  to  see." 

"He  can  wait,''  she  answered  quietly. 
Something  in  her  tear-stained,  wistful  face 
made  Dick's  heart  beat  with  a  sudden,  pas- 
sionate hope.  He  drew  her  toward  him. 
"  Oh  Hannah,  my  darling,  if  I  could  only 
win  you  for  a  wife,  I  would  prove  to  your 
father  how  steady  and  sober  I  can  be.  Could 
you  ever  learn  to  care  for  me  a  little?" 

"  You  must  not  ask  me,  Dick.  Be  sober 
and  good  for  your  own  sake,  because  it  is 


18  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

right  to  be  so,  because  it  is  a  sin  and  shame 
for  a  young  man  like  you  to  waste  your 
life.  Think  what  a  man  your  grandfather, 
Judge  Barry,  was!" 

"Yes,  but  he  had  an  education,"  said 
Dick  sorrowfully. 

"  True,  but  think  how  many  uneducated, 
poor  men  have  risen  to  be  great  and  suc- 
cessful by  their  own  brave  and  patient 
efforts." 

Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by 
Ruth,  who  came  tripping  airily  toward 
them,  in  fresh  muslins,  to  inform  her 
crumpled  and  tearful  sister  of  Mr.  Denni- 
son's  arrival.     "  And  if  you  don't  look  out, 


A  WOMAIi'S  TRIUMPH.  19 

Hannali,"  she  added  saucily,  "  I'll  get  him 
away  from  you — see  if  I  don't — if  I  am 
only  sixteen  and  a  half." 

And  so  poor  Dick  was  answered.  All 
that  afternoon  he  worked  in  the  hot  hay- 
field  with  a  wild  energy  that  tasked  the 
other  men  sorely.  The  hot  sun  blazed  down 
upon  the  meadows,  and,  like  one  in  a  dream, 
he  heard  all  day  the  rattle  of  the  mower 
and  the  shouts  to  the  horses  as  they  lagged 
in  their  walk. 

Frank  Dennison  in  the  cool  parlor  did 
not  find  the  heat  uncomfortable;  neither 
did  the  blonde  and  languid  Ruth  who  enter- 
tained him,  looking  like  a  blue-bell  in  her 


20  A  WOMAN'S  TIUUMPH. 

azure  muslin  robes.  She  played  and  sang 
for  him,  but  Hannah  withdrew  to  the 
kitchen  early,  saying,  "The  men  will  need 
a  tempting  supper  after  such  a  hot  day  in 
the  field."  Then  she  baked  divers  dainty 
things,  and  finally  brewed  a  pitcherful  of 
some  cooling  drink,  and  donnmg  a  wide 
shade-hat,  carried  it  out  to  the  workers. 
Mrs.  McClean  was  taking  an  afternoon 
nap.  On  this  dreamy,  drowsy  day  the  old 
farm-house  was  very  quiet.  A  lazy  bee 
droned  idly  above  the  blossoms  in  the 
garden.  The  white  kitten  played  with  a 
spool  of  thread.  Ruth,  in  a  low,  soft 
voice,  read  aloud  a  verse  or  two  from  a 


A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH.  21 

volume  of  poems  she  was  sliowing  Denni- 
sou.  Suddenly,  into  the  midst  of  all  this 
sweet  peace,  came  Hannah,  breathless, 
pale.  "Ruth,"  she  said,  in  a  strange,  hushed 
voice,  "father  has  had  a  sunstroke,  and 
they  are  bringing  him  to  the  house.  We 
must  send  for  the  doctor.  Let  us  get  the 
room  ready." 

•'  Oh!  Hannah,  is  he  dead?  Do  not  let 
me  see  him,"  cried  Ruth,  beginning  to  weep 
nervously. 

"Hush,  hush,"  said  the  elder  sister 
sternly. 

"I  will  go  for  Doctor  Meade,"  said 
Dennison,     and    just    then     Dick    and 


22  A  WOMAJS'^S  TRIUMPH. 

Norwegian  Pete  came  in  bringing  the  old 
farmer  unconscious  between  them.  He 
was  breathing  heavily. 

Hannah,  who  loved  her  father  faithfully, 
in  spite  of  his  gruff,  ungracious  speeches 
to  her,  felt  her  heart  sink  with  fear  as  she 
watched  him  lying  there. 

When  the  doctor  came  he  gave  him  a 
few  drops  of  stimulating  mixture,  and  put 
crushed  ice  upon  his  head.  He  revived 
somewhat,  and  by  the  following  day  had 
so  far  recovered  as  to  begin  worrying  about 
his  hay  crop. 

"  It  will  be  ruined  now,"  he  said  dole- 
fully, "  for  this  fine  weather  cannot  last 


A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH.  23 

much  longer.  If  we  only  had  some  one 
to  drive  the  mower,  we  might  get  that 
meadow  finished  in  a  day  or  two;  hut  it's 
just  the  husy  time." 

Hannah,  seeing  it  troubled  her  father 
greatly,  at  last  suggested  driving  the  mower 
herself  until  other  help  could  be  procured. 
At  first  farmer  McClean  pooh  poohed  at 
this  idea,  only  to  yield  later.  And  so  the 
young  girl  went  out  the  next  day  to  drive 
in  the  big  meadow,  while  Mrs.  McClean 
stayed  by  her  husband's  bedside,  and  pretty, 
idle  Ruth  grumbled  much  as  she  ruefully 
undertook  the  work  of  kitchen  and  dairy. 

The  saying    that    "misfortunes  never 


24  A  WOMAJSf'S  TRIUMPH. 

come  singly''  was  verified  that  week  at 
tlie  homestead,  for  that  day,  about  eleven 
o'clock,  as  everything  was  going  on  peace- 
fully and  regularly  in  the  field,  and  Farmer 
McClean  was  dozing,  soothed  to  sleep  by 
what  was  music  to  his  ears,  the  clatter  of 
the  mowing  machine,  what  should  the 
horses  do  but  run  into  a  nest  of  wild 
bumble  bees,  of  which  the  meadow  hap- 
pened to  be  full.  Of  course  the  insects 
attacked  the  horses  fiercely,  and  when  the 
maddened  creatures  ran,  Pete's  cries  of 
"Whoa,  Whoa!"  only  frightened  them 
the  more.  Then  it  was  that  Dick  jumped 
down  from   the   stack  he  was  rounding 


A  WOMAIi'S  TRIUMPH.  25 

off,  cleared  the  distance  between  himself 
and  the  horses  with  a  few  bounds,  and 
seized  them  by  the  bits.  He  was  just  in 
time,  for  Hannah  could  not  have  clung  to 
her  high  seat  much  longer,  and  the  sharp 
sickle  would  no  doubt  have  cut  her  fear- 
fully. 

Dick  was  the  only  one  hurt.  In  the 
excitement  he  said  nothing  about  his  wrist, 
which  was  badly  cut. 

As  he  was  walking  to  the  house  with 
Hannah,  she  noticed  his  left  hand  wrapped 
in  a  handkerchief  and  partly  thrust  beneath 
the  breast  of  his  working  blouse. 

"  You  are  hurt,"  she  said  compassion- 


26  A  W03IAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

ately. 

"Only  a  scratch,"  was  the  reply,  though 
his  pallor  betrayed  loss  of  blood  and  pain. 

Arrived  at  the  house  they  met  Dennison, 
who  had  driven  over  with  the  doctor.  It 
was  found  that  a  small  artery  had  been 
severed  in  Dick's  effort  to  lift  Hannah 
from  her  seat  upon  the  mower. 

The  old  farmer  fretted  and  fumed  at  this 
fresh  accident,  and  the  delay  it  would  oc- 
casion in  the  work.  No  one  seemed  to 
realize  how  perilous  Hannah's  position  had 
been — how  narrow  her  escape  from  death. 
Dick  realized  it,  however,  as  he  leaned 
against  a  pillar  of    the    veranda    after 


A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH.  27 

having  his  hand  bound  up.  He  was  gloom- 
ily watching  the  dark  clouds  in  the  western 
sky,  as  Hannah,  pale,  tearful,  yet  with  a 
sweeter  smile  for  him  than  he  had  ever 
seen  upon  her  face  before,  came  out  and 
thanked  him  earnestly.  Soon  after,  when 
tea  was  ready,  he  declined  joining  the 
others,  but  insisted  upon  going  out  to  help 
Pete  cap  the  unfinished  stack,  before  the 
rain  should  reach  it. 

"  How  could  you  be  so  careless,  Hannah, 
as  to  drive  into  the  midst  of  those  bees? 
Didn't  you  know  they  were  there?  Of 
course  the  horses  ran."  This  consoling 
remark  proceeded  from  Mrs.  McClean  as 


28  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

she  was  pouring  out  tea. 

"  Oil !  she  was  too  busy  watching  Dick  at 
work  to  have  all  her  thoughts  about  her. 
Now,  Hannah,  since  Dick  came  to  grief 
through  you,  seems  to  me  you  ought  to  go 
out  and  help  him  finish  that  stack,"  chimed 
in  Ruth  satirically. 

All  was  still,  the  heat  was  oppressive,  and 
in  dread  of  the  coming  thunderstorm  the 
fowls  had  sought  the  shelter  of  the  house 
wall,  and  hovered  near,  clucking  to  each 
other  in  a  sagacious  way,  as  weatherwise 
old  people  discuss  the  prospects  of  a  storm. 

Out  upon  the  shadowy  vine-covered 
porch  no  one  heard  a  step  or  divined  that 


A  WOMAIi'S  TRIUMPH.  29 

the  man  they  were  so  carelessly  discussing 
had  just  come  up  from  work  and  was  rest- 
ing there  for  a  moment. 

Dennison  laughed  slightly  at  Ruth's 
speech,  then  bowing  to  Hannah  as  if  in 
apology  for  this,  added:  "  Far  more  likely 
that  Dick  came  to  grief  through  his  old 
failing.  Poor  whisky  imbibed  too  fi'eely 
under  a  hot  sun  does  not  tend  to  make  a 
man  clear-headed." 

Hannah's  voice,  pure  and  silver-toned 
as  a  bell,  and  bearing  in  it  a  pointed  rebuke, 
came  through  the  window  to  Dick. 

"  You  ai'e  mistaken,  all  of  you.  You  do 
not  seem  to  understand  that  Dick  had 


30  A  WOMAJS'^S  TRIUMPH, 

nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  horses 
when  they  started,  and  as  for  his  drinking, 
I  know  he  has  not  touched  a  drop  of  in- 
toxicating drink  for  weeks.  His  courage 
saved  my  life,  for  I  could  not  have  kept 
my  seat  one  moment  longer." 

"  I  am  sure,  Miss  Hannah,  that  any  man 
might  be  willing  to  risk  more  than  he  has 
to-day,  to  find  so  earnest  a  champion," 
said  Doctor  Meade. 

"  I  hate  injustice,  that  is  all,"  was  her 
reply. 

"  Dick  is  not  so  bad  a  fellow,"  said 
Dennison  patronizingly.  "He  has  been 
remarkably  steady  this  summer,  but  he  will 


A  WOJIAJS^'S  TRIUMPH.  31 

never  make  a  success  in  life.  He  will  work 
far  better  for  others  than  he  will  for  him- 
self." 

Hannah's  voice  as  she  answered  was 
slightly  tremulous. 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Dennison,  I  am 
often  tempted  to  rebel  against  the  narrow- 
ness of  the  definition  which  most  people 
give  to  that  term — 'success  in  life.'  Now 
to  succeed  in  getting  money  is  no  doubt  a 
fine  thing,  and  not  so  exceedingly  difficult 
either,  when  one  has  been  left  a  fair  capital, 
as  you  have." 

"  It  requires  as  much  business  ability  to 
keep  money  as  it  does  to  make  it,"  said 


33  A  WOMAJ^'S  TBIUMPII. 

Mrs.  McCleaii  sagely.  The  latter  was  one 
of  those  who  generally  save  themselves  the 
trouble  and  responsibility  of  original  opin- 
ion, by  a  proverb  or  popular  aphorism,  cut, 
dried,  and  ready  to  apply  to  all  cases. 

"Saving  money  comes  so  naturally  to 
many  people  that  it  is  changed  from  an 
admirable  quality  to  a  passion,"  said 
Hannah  drily.  The  latent  sarcasm  in  her 
voice  made  Dennison  flush  slightly  as  she 
continued.  "And  then  I  so  much  dislike  to 
hear  people  talk  as  though  temperance, 
undoubtedly  a  great  virtue,  was  the  only 
one.  Is  it  nothing  to  be  brave,  generous, 
charitable?" 


A  WOMAJST'S  TRIUMPH,  33 

"You  are  nervous,  Hannah,"  said  her 
step-mother;  "surely  it  would  be  well  for 
you  to  get  a  breath  of  air  out  on  the  porch." 

The  girl  arose,  all  the  blood  in  her  tired 
frame  throbbing  indignantly. 

There  was  a  rustle  among  the  vines; 
Dick  was  just  going  down  the  steps.  From 
the  pallor  of  his  fine  face  his  eyes  shone 
with  excitement  and  wounded  pride. 

Hannah  rushed  past  him  on  her  way  to 
the  orchard.  She  felt  that  she  must  be 
alone,  but  the  young  man  followed  her, 
and  as  she  sank  down  upon  her  favorite 
seat  he  laid  his  hand  upon  her  dark  hair 
reverently. 


34  A  WOMjiN'JS  TRIUMPH, 

''Hannah,"  he  began,  pain  giving  his 
words  earnestness  and  dignity,  "  I  may  not 
have  another  opportunity  to  speak  to  you 
for  I  am  going  away  to-night,  and  must 
thank  you  for  standing  up  for  me  so 
bravely.  I  did  not  intend  to  listen,  but 
was  on  the  porch  and  heard  all  they  said. 
You  were  right — I  had  not  been  drinking 
to-day.  Indeed  I  never  touch  liquor  now, 
but — there  it  is,  my  bad  name  clings  to 
me." 

"Where  are  you  going?"    she  asked. 

*'  Up  north,  to  the  lumber  regions.  A 
man  can  get  good  wages  in  the  pineries, 
they  say.     God  bless  you,  I  shall  love  you 


A  WOMA^^'S  TRIUMPH.  35 

always  and  be  a  better  man  for  having 
known  you." 

"  Dick,"  she  urged,  '^  such  a  rough,  hard 
life  as  you  will  have  to  lead  there,  and 
right  in  the  midst  of  temptation!" 

"Oh!  well,  who  cares?"  he  said  sadly. 

"  I  care,"  said  Hannah,"  her  true  woman- 
hood speaking  in  her  voice. 

"Hannah!  Do  you  care  enough  to 
promise  me  that  you  v^dll  some  day  become 
my  wife?"  he  said.  "Not  now^  I  am  poor 
and  struggling.  I  would  not  ask  you  to 
share  my  lot." 

"  Do  you  think,  then,  that  I  could  bear 
to  live  on  here,  in  peace  and  with  plenty. 


N 


36  A  WOMAW'S  TRIUMPH. 

and  let  you  brave  danger  and  hardship  all 
alone  ?  No,  no,  I  will  be  to  you  a  helper,  a 
blessing,  Richard,  or  nothing!  We  will 
share  life  together,  both  in  trouble  and  in 

joy." 

He  held  her  to  his  breast  one  moment, 
and  as  he  realized  how  great  a  gift  was 
this  noble  wonan's  love,  felt  that  a  life- 
time of  devotion  alone  could  repay  her 
generous  faith. 

Of  course  there  was  bitter  opposition 
from  her  father  when  Hannah  told  him  of 
her  promise;  and  a  few  months  later, 
when  they  were  married,  he  refused  to  be 
present^  and  she  went  away  without  his 


/ 


A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH.  37 

farewell  or  blessing.  This  did  not  make 
the  new  life  of  toil  and  privation  any 
easier.  But  Hannah  never  murmured. 
She  had  the  spirit  and  patience  of  an  old 
Scotch  covenanter  when  she  believed  she 
was  in  me  right. 

When  Hannah's  little  son  was  born  she 
named  him  John,  after  her  father,  and  sent 
the  baby's  picture  to  him  with  an  affec- 
tionate letter. 

But  the  old  farmer  was  lying  in  his 
coffin  when  it  arrived. 

Later,  when  his  will  was  read,  it  was 
found  he  had  given  nearly  everything  to 
Ruth,    after    providing    for    his    wife. 


38  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

Hannah's  portion  was  to  be  given  to  her 
only  on  condition  that  she  should  leave 
her  husband  and  come  back  to  live  on  the 
old  farm. 

Frank  Dennison  was  appointed  adminis- 
trator of  the  estate. 

When  Hannah  read  the  cold,  formal 

letter  in  which  Lawyer  Keene  informed 

her  of  this,  she  could  scarcely  realize  the 

extent  of  the  injustice  toward  her. 

*        **         *         *         *         *         * 

A  pale  northern  sky,  gloomy  forests  on 
either  hand,  and  on  the  banks  of  a  broad, 
rushing  river  a  cluster  of  log-houses — 
these  make  up  the  picture. 


A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH.  39 

It  is  spring-time,  and  the  air  is  fragrant 
with  woodland  odors. 

A  great  colony  of  water  fowl  have  just 
passed  over  the  hamlet.  They  flew  in  a 
straight  line,  in  orderly  time-honored 
fashion,  well  marshaled  by  their  captain. 
They  were  glad  to  breathe  again  the 
resinous-scented  air  of  their  northern  pine 
woods,  for  they  had  traveled  hundreds  of 
miles  from  Florida's  groves  of  orange  trees 
and  low-lying  reedy  marshes  by  the  warm, 
blue  sea.  They  were  so  near  their  summer 
home,  as  they  flew  over  Mishawamee,  that 
they  began  to  congratulate  themselves 
upon  their  safe  arrival. 


40  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH, 

Hannali  put  down  for  a  moment  the 
heavy  pail  of  water  she  was  carrying  to 
the  house,  and  looked  up  to  watch  their 
graceful  flight,  and  listen  to  their  shrill 
voice.  Then  she  said  with  a  little  sigh, 
*'Yes,  the  wild  geese  are  back  again. 
Spring  will  soon  be  here  now,  and  I  am 
glad  enough,  it  has  been  such  a  long,  hard 
winter." 

Thus  musing  she  passed  into  the  little 
cottage  that  was  their  home. 

From  the  scattered  houses  blue  smoke 
rose  in  the  clear^  still  air.  The  forest,  vast, 
dark  and  mysterious  stretched  its  huge 
arms  around  the  settlement,  and  the  cold 


A  WOMAJ^f'^S  THIUMPH.  41 

sky  of  the  north,  with  its  oppressive  melan- 
choly, like  a  haunting,  monotonous  song 
whose  minor  tones  suggest  loss  and  desola- 
tion, brooded  over  all. 

Soon  the  big  logs  would  come  floating 
down  the  swift  current  of  Wolf  River, 
and  the  wild  songs  of  the  adventurous 
raftsmen  would  waken  the  echoes  in  those 
sleeping  forest  aisles.  A  dare-devil  set 
were  these  lumbermen  of  the  north.  A 
reckless,  red-shirted,  picturesque  band  of 
crusaders,  whose  arms  were  turned  against 
the  sturdy  trees.  With  much  of  the  law- 
lessness and  ignorance,  though  very  little 
of  the  piety,  of  those  mail-clad  hordes  of 


42  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

the  middle  ages,  who  went  out  to  fight 
the  Moslem,  these  men  fought  against 
unrelenting  enemies  too — against  the  bitter 
cold  of  the  long  winters,  when  feet  and 
hands  were  frozen  by  exposure  to  the  cruel 
air;  against  the  home-sickness  and  despon- 
dency natural  to  a  lot  so  isolated,  so  full 
of  hardship  and  of  danger.  What  wonder 
that  they  drank,  sometimes  until  look  or 
word  provoked  the  fierce  quarrel,  which 
ended,  perhaps,  in  bloodshed,  or  in  crime ! 
Yet  most  of  the  dwellers  in  Mishawamee 
were  contented  enough.  It  was  as  cheer- 
ful and  refined  a  life  as  any  they  had  ever 
known.     But  it  was  not  so  with  Hannah. 


A  WOMAIi'S  TRIUMPH.  43 

The  three  years  she  had  spent  there  seemed 
an  eternity.  She  was  of  finer  mold  than 
the  heavy  Norwegian  or  Swedish  wives 
who  largely  composed  the  female  portion 
of  the  settlement.  She  could  not  speak  to 
them  of  sorrow  or  aspirations  that  to  them 
were  wholly  incomprehensible.  So  her 
heart  was  full  of  a  great  hunger  for  some 
slight  measure  of  sympathy,  of  confidence 
from  one  of  her  own  sex.  Day  by  day  her 
great  patient,  black  eyes  carried  the  pa- 
thetic shadow  of  her  longing  in  their 
depths,  and  her  well-cut,  refined  features 
grew  more  sharp,  her  cheek  thinner. 
She  was  a  slender,  nervous,  ambitious 


44  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

little  American  woman.  The  privations 
she  had  borne,  the  struggles  against 
poverty  and  despondency  had  never  even 
been  hinted  at  by  her  to  any  of  her  former 
friends,  and  she  was  far  too  proud  and  in- 
dependent to  admit  to  those  who  blamed 
or  pitied  her  for  her  choice,  that  her  life 
with  Dick  Barry  so  far  had  been  a  constant 
struggle  to  keep  up  his  courage  as  well  as 
her  own. 

Poor  Dick,  though  always  kind  and 
brave,  did  indeed  seem  to  be  dogged  by 
some  malicious  spirit  of  ill-luck.  Hannah 
had  not  undergone  quite  such  marvelous 
misfortunes,  it  is  true,  as  that  mariner  in 


A  WOMAJST'S  TRIUMPH.  45 

"Billee  Taylor"  who  was  "bitten  by  a 
crocodile"  and  "swallowed  by  a  whale,  all 
on  account  of  Eliza,"  but  she  had  been 
scorched  by  throes  of  fever  brought  on  by 
overwork  and  exposure  to  cold,  to  say 
nothing  of  mental  troubles,  care  and 
sorrow,  all  on  account  of  Dick. 

But  if  you  imagine  for  a  moment  that 
she  wavered,  or  loved  him  less,  you  know 
little  of  a  true  woman's  heart.  Undoubt- 
edly, Hannah  was  illogical  enough  to  cling 
all  the  more  tenderly  to  him  with  each 
misfortune.  Her  old-fashioned,  unen- 
lightened mind  argued  that  when  the  world 
battered  the  poor  fellow  most  heartlessly, 


46  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

then  he  had  most  need  of  the  devotion  of 
his  wife,  and  the  best  right  to  it. 

Only  a  farmer's  daughter,  and  brought 
up  in  the  agricultural  districts,  she  knew 
little  of  that  selfish  philosophy  which 
would  have  advised  her  to  take  the  child 
and  leave  Dick  to  his  fate,  thus  causing 
herself  to  be  included  in  the  prosperous 
maj  ority.  Hannah  had  always  from  a  child 
mended  the  broken  legs  of  forlorn  birds, 
and  nursed  the  weak  lambkins  back  to  life 
and  vigor;  usually  to  have  the  latter  taken 
from  her  and  sold  as  soon  as  they  grew 
frolicsome  and  had  attained  good  condi- 
tion under  her  sheltering  care. 


A  WOM^iN'S  TRIUMPH.  47 

It  had  been  a  trying  winter  for  the  little 
family,  for  Dick  the  husband  and  father 
had  been  ill  for  nearly  a  month  during  the 
coldest  weather,  and  as  their  home  was 
mortgaged,  it  had  taxed  Hannah's  strength 
to  the  utmost  to  provide  the  few  comforts 
he  required,  and  save  a  small  sum  toward 
the  first  payment  of  the  mortgage,  which 
came  due  in  spring.  But  she  was  a  brave 
little  woman,  and  worked  on  faithfully, 
taking  in  washing  or  serving  for  the  mill 
hands  and  lumbermen,  so  that  by  the  first 
of  April  she  had  saved  nearly  enough 
money  to  make  the  first  payment  on  tlie 
home. 


48  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

Seventy-five  dollars  was  all  she  had  put 
by  thus  far,  and  the  sum  required  was  one 
hundred  and  ten. 

The  very  pain  it  caused  him  to  see  his 
wife  and  child  suffer  made  Dick  rush  away 
from  the  place,  but  Hannah  did  not  think 
of  this,  and  those  winter  days  when  he 
buttoned  up  his  shabby  overcoat  sadly  and 
went  out  into  the  storm,  she  put  aside  her 
work,  took  the  child  in  her  arms,  and  wept 
over  him. 

The  weather  was  bitterly  cold,  and  the 
little  family  suffered  at  times  for  want  of 
proper  food  and  warmer  clothing.  But 
April    came   and  with  it   warmer  days. 


A  WOMAJS^'S  TRIUMPH.  49 

Hannah  began  to  take  heart  again.  Finally 
she  received  a  letter  one  day  when  Dick 
was  out  in  the  woods.  It  was  from  Mr. 
Dennison^  advising  her  to  leave  her  husband 
and  come  home.  He  had  heard  how  hard 
she  worked,  how  poor  she  was  (the  letter 
said),  and  it  grieved  him. 

Hannah  put  the  letter  away  in  her  work- 
box.  She  was  angry  at  its  patronizing 
tone,  and,  womanlike,  wished  to  spare 
Dick  the  unpleasant  feelings  which  the 
reading  of  it  would  occasion  his  proud 
nature.  She  intended  to  treat  it  with  quiet 
contempt,  and  to  speak  of  it  to  no  one. 

As  she  looked  about  her  poor  little  room, 


50  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

how  scantily  furnished  and  bare  it  looked! 
In  one  corner  stood  a  bed  covered  with  gay 
patchwork, — a  quilt  that  Hannah's  own 
mother  in  years  gone  by  had  pieced  for  her 
baby  daughter,  no  doubt  dreaming  fondly 
as  mothers  will,  of  the  pretty  child's  future, 
and  little  guessing  that  Hannah  would  ever 
gaze  upon  it  with  wistful  eyes  in  this 
bleak  northern  hamlet.  The  floor  was 
bare,  though  white  with  much  scr jobbing. 
A  small  calico  curtain  hung  at  each  of  the 
two  small  windows,  and  partly  obscured  a 
view  of  snowy  wastes,  pine  woods  half 
buried  in  big  drifts,  and  a  few  rude  shan- 
ties.    The  only  bright  objects  about  the 


A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH.  51 

place  were  the  wreath  of  autumn  leaves 
around  the  wedding  certificate  that  hung 
upon  the  wall,  and  baby  Jack's  rosy  cheeks 
as  he  slept  softly  in  his  cradle. 

"  So  they  want  me  to  leave  Dick!  leave 
my  husband !  Never — not  for  all  the  farms 
in  Illinois  ! "  said  Hannah  aloud.  Then 
as  she  looked  at  the  little  sleeper  and  real- 
ized the  wrong  this  was  to  him,  and 
thought  of  the  education  and  chance  in 
life  a  little  of  this  money  would  have  en- 
abled her  to  give  her  child,  big  tears  rolled 
down  her  patient  face.  A  few  moments 
of  inner  conflict  and  her  rare  spirit  reas- 
serted itself,  a  flush  of  defiance  came  to 


53  A  WOMAJ^\S  TRIUMPH. 

that  thin  cheek  which  a  few  years  before 
had  been  softly  rounded,  richly  tinted  as 
the  peach. 

"  Never  mind,  my  bonny  lad,"  she  whis- 
pered softly,  stooping  over  the  cradle  and 
kissing  the  boy's  forehead,  ''  we  will 
never  ask  them  for  a  cent.  Let  us  all 
perish  together,  if  need  be,  rather  than 
submit  to  cruel,  wicked  conditions  like 
these." 

Yet  it  did  seem  hard  and  cruel,  for  she  had 
been  a  faithful,  hard-working  girl  at  home, 
and  her  own  mother  had  brought  a  fair 
dowry  when  she  married,  all  of  which  had 
gone  into  the  farm  and  its  improvements. 


A  WOMAJ^'S  TRIUMPH.  53 

Hannah  wrote  a  letter  home  telling  them 
to  keep  the  money,  and  never  write  to  her 
again. 

The  next  winter  was  a  severe  one.  Dick 
was  laid  up  for  weeks  with  pneumonia,  and 
as  he  could  earn  nothing,  Hannah  washed 
for  the  men  at  the  saw-mill,  until  finally 
her  wrists  became  so  lame  and  swollen  that 
the  pain  scarcely  allowed  her  any  sleep. 
Yet  no  word  of  complaint  found  its  way 
to  the  old  farmhouse.  She  felt  her  rela- 
tives were  dead  to  her,  and  would  have 
worked  with  bleeding  feet  and  hands  rather 
than  ask  aid  from  them. 

Of  late  she  could  not  conceal  fi*om  her- 


54  A  WOMAJST'S  TRIUMPH. 

self  the  sad  fact  that  Dick,  for  whose  sake 
she  had  lost  her  heritage,  was  not  the  man 
she  had  hoped  her  courageous  example 
would  have  made  him.  As  soon  as  he  was 
able  to  walk  again,  he  seemed  eager  to  get 
away  from  her  presence — not  to  find  work 
that  he  might  lift  the  too  heavy  burden 
from  her  patient  shoulders,  but  rather  to 
seek  in  Joe  Murphy's  saloon  the  stimulus 
that  enabled  him  to  forget  for  awhile  all 
care  and  misery. 

Yet  Hannah  said  little,  but  worked  on, 
and  felt  keenly  the  change  in  him.  Little 
Jack  often  patted  her  cheek,  saying  softly, 
''  Mamma  looks  sorry." 


A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH.  55 

Poor  Dick!  it  was  not  that  he  meant  to 
be  cruel.     Capable  of  rising  at  times  to 
grand  heights  of  courage  and  endeavor,  he 
possessed  no  power  of  patient  endurance. 
It  had  hurt  his  pride  cruelly,  too,  her  father 
thus  taking  it  for  granted  that  unless  it 
was  secured  by  this  condition  Hannah's 
portion  would  be  squandered  by  her  hus- 
band.   Although  he  had  borne  the  cold 
without  complaint,  he  was  not  well,  and 
indeed  had  always  possessed  less  physical 
strength  than  nerve    and  spirit,  which 
caused  him  to  dash  at  a  hard  task  and  ac- 
complish it  by  sheer  pluck,  as  a  gallant 
French  soldier  might  charge  recklessly  at 


56  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

the  enemy.  But  this  method  of  work 
told  but  poorly  in  the  pineries,  against  the 
stolid  force  of  his  companions.  And  then 
a  jealous  pain  always  tugged  at  his  heart 
as  he  watched  his  wife's  sad  face.  He 
thought  she  might  regret  her  impulsive 
answer  when  he  had  asked  her  to  marry 
him,  and  that  now,  when  he  stood  in  the 
way  of  her  obtaining  her  fortune,  she  pos- 
sibly might  feel  relieved  to  be  free  from 
him,  good  though  he  was,  and  loyal  and 
tender  as  ever.  It  was  scarcely  a  comfort- 
able home  that  he  could  now  make  for  her 
and  the  boy. 
With    other    wants,    Hannah's    faded 


A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH.  57 

cotton  gown,  he  tLought,  was  not  sufficient- 
ly warm.  The  man's  heart  grew  hitter, 
defiant  against  fate  as  he  watched  her  at 
work  one  dreary  March  day.  A  biting 
wind  was  sweeping  round  the  walls  of  the 
little  cottage,  driving  in  snow  at  every 
nook  and  cranny.  The  loosened  windows 
rattled  in  the  blast.  The  sky  was  dark 
and  lowering.  Evidently  a  blizzard  was 
brewing  in  the  upper  lake  region. 
Hannah,  with  a  pale  face,  was  preparing 
to  place  the  wash-boiler  upon  the  stove, 
where  green  wood  sputtered  and  smoked, 
giving  out  more  steam  and  sap  than  heat. 
Their    supply   of    dry    wood   had    been 


58  A  WOMAN'S  THIUMPH. 

exhausted  during  Dick's  illness.  The  baby 
played  quietly  on  the  floor,  but  his  little 
shoes  were  worn  out  at  the  toes. 

"  The  child  needs  new  shoes,"  said  Dick, 
listlessly.  '^  I  wish  I  could  get  my 
strength  back  again." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Hannah,  "  I  don't  like  to 
spend  a  cent  of  the  money  I  have  saved 
for  paying  off  the  mortgage." 

The  man  made  no  reply.  He  looked 
vacantly  before  him,  as  if  fixing  his 
thoughts  upon  some  atom  in  the  thin  air. 
He  then  rose  slowly,  and  with  an  evident 
effort  to  control  his  emotion,  walked  from 
the  cottage. 


A   WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH.  59 

Hannali  resumed  her  work. 

That  evening  when  he  returned  home, 
she  left  him  with  the  child,  while  she 
stepped  into  a  neighbor's  on  an  arrand. 
Dick  went  to  the  work-box  to  find  a  pencil 
to  cast  up  his  accounts  with  his  employer, 
as  he  had  now  been  at  work  for  several 
days.  Seeing  Dennison's  letter  lying 
there,  he,  of  course,  read  it,  and  wondered 
why  Hannah  had  not  told  him  of  it  be- 
fore. He  was  indignant  at  its  tone.  But 
the  chief  pain  came  from  a  suspicion  that 
his  wife  had  been  influenced  by  it,  and  in- 
tended to  act  upon  its  advice,  else  why 
should  she  have  kept  it  from  him  ?     He 


60  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

knew  all  her  loyalty,  her  goodness,  but  his 
lack  of  faith  was  in  himself,  in  his  power 
to  keep  her  love,  since  he  had  failed  to 
make  the  happy,  comfortable  home  for  her 
that  he  had  intended  to  when  they  were 
married.  Yet  he  was  fully  conscious  that 
buried  away  beneath  a  mass  of  faults  and 
weaknesses  there  was  a  manliness,  yes,  a 
power  of  self-sacrifice  for  those  he  loved 
that  Dennison,  prosperous  and  pompous, 
was  utterly  incapable  of  even  compre- 
hending. 

This  was  a  new  blow,  and  jugt  as  he  had 
begun  to  take  fresh  heart  from  the  spring 
weather  and  was  maturing  a  plan  which 


A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH.  61 

bid  fair  to  succeed — a  plan  that  would  en- 
able him  to  take  Hannah  away,  and  place 
her  in  a  pretty  cottage  amid  the  flowers 
and  trees  of  a  more  genial  climate.  He 
meant  to  surprise  her  with  this.  It  de- 
pended upon  the  answer  his  employer,  a 
capitalist  and  owner  of  a  ranch  in  Califor- 
nia, would  give  him  within  the  next  three 
days;  and  now,  perhaps,  she  was  coldly 
thinking  of  leaving  hi^ ! 

She  came  in  looking  quite  cheerful,  and 
smiling  kindly.  He  had  folded  the  letter, 
placing  it  carefully  back  in  the  box, 
and  sat  with  bowed  head,  scarcely  look- 
ing up  as  she  came  in.     Hannah  rocked 


62  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

little  Jack  to  sleep,  looking  wistfully  at 
her  husband. 

"  You  are  ill.  I  am  afraid  you  are  work- 
ing too  hard  before  your  strength  has  re- 
turned. That  attack  of  pneumonia  has 
left  you  weak,"  she  said. 

He  made  no  reply.  Then  hoping  to  be- 
guile him  from  his  sorrowful  mood,  she 
continued  cheerfully,  ''  I  am  so  glad  spring 
has  come.  As  soon  as  we  can  find  time 
let  us  have  the  garden  ploughed.  I  mean 
to  have  a  fine  garden  this  summer." 

•'  I  don't  think  we  can  make  any  plans, 
Hannah,  for  the  future.  You  were  foolish 
to  marry  me,  and  I  was  wicked  to  ask  you, 


A  WOJIAH^'S  TRIUMPH.  63 

but  I  loved  you.  Ah !  well,  better  leave 
me  to  my  fate,  take  the  boy  and  go  home." 
He  said  this  more  in  hope  of  hearing 
her  denial  of  any  such  thought  than  really 
meaning  it.  But  her  loyal,  suffering  heart 
was  stung  to  be  thus  doubted,  or  it  was 
possible  she  thought  that  he  was  really 
tii^ed  of  her.  Oh,  that  was  a  cruel,  mad- 
dening thought !  She  loved  him,  yet  he 
must  not  think  she  would  weakly  cling  to 
a  man  who  did  not  care  for  her,  who  would 
not  also  cleave  to  her  through  every  storm 
and  trouble.  She  clasped  Jack's  little 
sleeping  form  to  her  heart,  and  paused  a 
moment  before  replying.      She   did  not 


64  A  WOMAJ^'S  TRIUMPH. 

choose  that  he  should  find  her  voice  trem- 
bling. 

"Very  well,  but  1  supposed  you  had 
more  independence  and  pride  than  to  allow 
your  wife  to  go  back  to  those  who  would 
insult  you!' 

Dick,  whose  head  seemed  to  be  on  fire 
and  his  heart  like  ice  at  this,  their  first 
quarrel,  rose  abruptly  and  left  the  house. 
It  was  late  when  he  returned  and  the  sub- 
ject was  not  renewed. 

Hannah  found  he  had  prepared  his  own 
breakfast  and  gone  away  much  earlier  than 
usual  the  next  morning. 

It  was  late  when  she  awoke  from  a 


A  WOMA^^'S  TRIUMPH.  65 

troubled  sleep.  All  that  day  slie  went  over 
in  her  mind  their  brief  married  life.  Poor 
Dick  had  worked  very  hard,  but  they  had 
labored  under  gi'eat  disadvantages,  begin- 
ning life  with  almost  nothing.  Then  she 
remembered  how  he  looked  that  day  when 
the  horses  ran  away  with  the  mower,  and 
he  had  saved  her  life.  She  feared  she  had 
been  wrong  in  not  frankly  showing  Denni- 
son's  letter  to  him,  then  tearing  it  to  pieces 
before  him,  and  reassuring  him  of  her  devo- 
tion, of  her  scorn  of  any  proposal  to  leave 
him.  Thus  she  reproached  herself,  full  of 
tender  contrition. 
It  was  late  that  afternoon  when  her 


66  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

work  was  over.  The  room  in  order,  she 
dressed  herself  in  a  dark  merino  that  Dick 
had  always  liked  to  see  her  in.  It  was  her 
one  good  dress,  and  her  eyes  sparkled  with 
quite  the  old-time  lustre  as  she  thought 
how  kind  she  would  be  to  Dick  when  he 
came  in.  After  all,  love  was  enough,  she 
thought,  and  if  they  but  worked  on  to- 
gether with  hope  and  courage  fortune 
could  not  fail  to  come  some  day. 

''  Papa  will  be  here  soon,  now,"  she  said 
gayly  to  Jack,  taking  him  in  her  arms  to 
the  door,  and  looking  up  the  long  stretch 
of  road  toward  the  woods  and  the  planing- 
niill. 


A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH.  67 

A  man  was  running  toward  the  house. 
It  was  Neal  Peterson,  one  of  the  workmen, 
not  Dick.     He  came  up  breathlessly. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Barry,  they  sent  me  to  tell 
you ! "  He  paused.  A  rough,  kindly  Nor- 
wegian, he  dreaded  to  tell  this  unsuspect- 
ing woman  his  sad  message. 

She  waited,  all  the  blood  ebbing  back 
to  her  heart. 

"  Your  husband,  Mrs.  Barry — he  went 
down  into  the  new  well  they  are  digging — 
it  caved  in — " 

"Is  he  dead?"  she  half  whispered. 

"  We  cannot  tell — the  men  are  digging 
— it  was  very  deep." 


68  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

"  Then  there  is  yet  hope,"  she  said.  At 
once  she  hastened  on  with  Neal,  the  baby 
in  her  arms.  The  men  were  still  digging 
where  the  well  had  crumbled  in,  the  per- 
spiration standing  out  upon  each  forehead 
as  they  labored. 

"  Can  he  live  or  breathe  under  all  that 
earth?"  she  asked,  with  pallid  lips,  of  a 
man  standing  near.  He  did  not  answer 
her,  but  turned  away  at  the  sight  of  her 
agonized  face,  muttering  an  evasion.  She 
remained  there  watching  them,  looking 
like  a  statue  of  despair,  unconscious  of 
anything  but  the  utter  horror  of  the 
calamity. 


A  WOMA]!{'S  TRIUMPH.  69 

The  sun  went  down.  From  the  great 
woods  came  the  melancholy  hoot  of  an 
owl.  The  workmen  paused.  There  was 
a  brief  consultation.  Then  one  of  them 
came  to  her. 

''  Have  you  found  him?"  she  whispered. 
"Have  you  found  his  poor,  dead  body? 
Oh,  let  me  go  to  him!" 

"No,  ma'am,  its  not  that,"  said  the 
man,  "  but  they  do  say  as  how  the  well 
was  almost  two  hundred  feet  dug  out 
already,  and  there  ain't  a  shadow  of  hope 
for  him  bein'  alive,  and  ye  see,  ma'am,  as 
it's  Saturday  night,  we  thought  we  would 
rest  and  then  dig  again  Monday  mornin'." 


70  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

Hannah  was  roused  at  last  from  her 
stupor. 

"Yet  it  may  be  that  his  breath  still 
lingers."  The  thought  came  quickly  to 
her  mind. 

''  No,  I  beg  you  to  go  on — I  will  return 
to  the  house — I  have  a  little  money  that  I 
have  saved — you  can  divide  it  among  you, 
but  do  not  leave  the  work." 

She  then  went  back  to  the  house,  took 
the  little  hoard  saved  for  the  mortgage, 
and  carried  it  out  to  the  men.  They  were 
idle,  sitting  in  groups. 

"  Ma'am,  you  need  the  money  for  your 
child  and  yourself." 


A  WOMAJ^'S  TRIUMPH.  71 

''Never  mind,  only  commence  your 
work  again,"  and  they  began  again  to 
work  vigorously.  Half  an  hour  j^assed  in 
silence.     Again  they  lagged. 

"It  is  no  use,  ma'am,  he  is  buried  already, 
dead  hours  ago;  it  caves  in  almost  as  fast 
as  we  work,  the  soil  is  so  loose  here.'' 

Hannah  seized  a  spade.  "  Let  me  work 
with  you."  she  cried.  "  Something  tells 
me  that  my  husband  lives.  Take  every 
cent  of  the  money,  and  when  it  is  gone 
you  can  stop,  but  I  will  work  on ! " 

Then,  as  though  in  reply  to  her,  a  faint, 
faint  sound,  as  of  a  strong  man's  last  cry 
for  help,  comes  from  beneath  the  mass  of 


72  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

crumbling  earth  at  her  feet !    He  has  heard 
her  brave  words.     He  lives. 

Poor  Dick  had  just  started  to  come  up 
vrhen  the  v^^ell  began  to  give  way,  but  a 
ladder  that  he  had  taken  down  with  him 
leaned  slantingly  against  the  wall,  and 
kept  much  of  the  earth  off,  as  he  crouched 
in  the  hollow  thus  formed.  The  foul  air 
had  caused  him  to  fall  into  a  state  of  un- 
consciousness, from  which  his  wife's  voice 
had  roused  him,  for  he  had  heard  her  last 
speech  to  the  men,  and  had  just  enough 
strength  remaining  to  cry  out  with  all  his 
fast  failing  power.  In  his  suspense  as  to 
whether  they  would  abandon  the  work  or 


A  W0MA2^'S  TRIUMPH.  73 

not,  he  gnawed  a  leather  belt  that  he 
wore  into  pieces.  ( Hannah  keeps  the  metal 
clasps  of  that  belt  among  her  treasured 
relics  to  this  day.) 

When  a  few  moments  later  they  carried 
him  up  and  out  into  the  air,  they  saw  by 
the  light  of  their  lanterns  that  his  hair 
had  turned  quite  white. 

He  lay  quietly  upon  his  own  bed  a  few 
hours  later.  The  curious  neighbors  had 
departed. 

The  early  sun  peeped  in  at  the  window 
and  kissed  the  face  of  baby  Jack  in  his 
cradle,  softly  sleeping.  It  formed  a  halo 
around    Hannah's    head,    as   she    leaned 


74  A  ]V0MAN'8  TRIUMPH. 

over  Richard,  bathing  his  temples  with 
camphor.  He  was  still  very  faiut  and  ill 
but  his  heart  was  full  of  peace  and  hum- 
ble thankfulness.  He  feebly  tried  to  kiss 
his  wife's  hand  as  she  arranged  his  pil- 
lows. All  the  morbid  pride  and  disti-ust 
had  left  him  forever.  Full  of  this  blessed 
confidence,  this  childlike  humility,  he 
slept. 

The  sound  of  bells  awakened  him.  It 
came  from  the  rude  little  Swedish  church 
of  the  settlement. 

"  What  are  those  bells  ringing  for?"  he 
asked. 

"  They  come  from  the  church,  I  suppose, 


A   WOMAJ^'S  TRIUMPH.  75 

dear  Richard.     It  is  Sunday,  you  know," 
answered  Hannah,  her  eyes  full  of  tears. 

''Oh!  Hannah,"  said  Dick,  ''can  you 
forgive  me?  I  read  Dennison's  letter.  I 
used  to  be  jealous  of  him,  and  began  to 
think  they  might  influence  you  against 
me.  When  Mr.  Lawrence  at  the  planing- 
mill  asked  me  to  go  down  into  the  well  he 
was  having  dug,  I  did  not  care  what  hap- 
pened to  me,  and  so  I  went,  although  I 
knew  it  was  very  dangerous.  Can  you 
forgive  me,  my  own  wife,  for  ever  doubt- 
ing your  stanch  devotion  to  me?" 

Her  arms  were  round  his  neck  for  reply, 
and  their  lips  met  in  a  kiss  more  fraught 


76  A  WOMAJ:i'S  TRIUMPH, 

with  deep  feeling,  more  earnest  with  a  love 
now  sanctified  by  trial,  then  any  they  had 
ever  known  as  lovers  in  long-past  days  at 
the  old  homestead. 

In  the  suburbs  of  Los  Angeles,  a  pretty 
cottage  vdth  wide  veranda  stands  in  a 
garden  full  of  flowers.  Roses  nod  and 
blush  and  look  in  at  the  windows,  and 
orange  trees  whose  golden  fruit  and  frag- 
rant blossoms  lend  their  own  peculiar 
southern  charms  to  the  place  are  every- 
where— in  fact,  the  cottage  stands  in  the 
midst  of  a  grove  of  them. 

At  a  neatly  laid  breakfast-table  in  a 


A  WOMAIf'S  TRIUMPH.  77 

small  arbor  sits  a  lady.  By  her  side  a  lad 
of  about  six  is  restraining  his  appetite 
gallantly.  His  hands  are  decorously  folded, 
but  his  eyes  turn  longingly  toward  the 
plate  of  white  rolls,  the  fruit  and  honey 
with  which  the  table  is  well  supplied. 

^'Father  will  soon  be  here,  Jack.  I  know 
you  are  hungry,  but  let  us  wait  for  him 
just  a  few  minutes  longer,"  the  lady  says, 
smiling  kindly  at  the  child.  As  she  speaks 
the  husband  and  father  joins  them. 

Can  this  handsome,  prosperous-looking, 
well-dressed  man  be  Richard  Barry  ?  Dick, 
the  ne'er-to-do-well,  who  was  to  drag 
Hannah  down  to  poverty  by  his  thriftless 


78  A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH. 

ways  and  love  of  drink  ?  Surely,  although 
his  hair  is  white,  his  fine  carriage  and  clear 
eyes,  as  well  as  the  evidences  of  elegance 
and  comfort  about  the  cottage,  all  show 
this  is  not  the  home  of  a  drunkard. 

He  has  prospered  greatly  during  his  so- 
journ in  California. 

Frank  Dennison  married  Ruth  long  ago, 
and  Lawyer  Keene  wrote  to  Hannah  offer- 
ing her  in  behalf  of  his  clients,  Ruth 
and  Mrs.  McClean,  a  small  yearly  income 
from  her  portion  of  the  estate  in  Illinois. 
But  Dick  and  Hannah  quietly  refused  to 
accept  anything  less  than  their  rightful 
share. 


A  WOMAN'S  TRIUMPH.  79 

And  now  this  bright  Sunday  morning 
Dick,  before  taking  his  seat  at  the  break- 
fast table,  kisses  his  wife  gently  upon  the 
forehead  and  lays  beside  her  plate  a  bunch 
of  fragrant  violets,  still  wet  with  the  dew. 

"  Why  did  you  not  come  earlier,  papa," 
asks  Master  Jack. 

''  My  dear  boy,  it  is  Easter  Sunday,  and 
on  that  day,  as  long  as  I  live  and  we  are 
spared  to  each  other,  I  shall  always  present 
mamma  with  a  bunch  of  flowers.  Shall  I 
tell  you  why  I  do  this,  Jack?  Well,  it  is 
in  commemoration  of  an  Easter  morning 
long  ago,  when  you  were  a  baby,  and  your 
mother's  love  and  courage,  goodness  and 


80  A  WOMAIf'S  TRIUMPH. 

wisdom  brought  me  back  from  the  grave 
to  the  green  fields  and  the  glorious  sun- 
light, to  your  bright  face,  and  dearer  than 
all,  to  a  full  knowledge  of  what  it  means 
to  have  gained  the  priceless  gift  of  a  good 
woman's  love.  Look  at  your  mother 
well,  Jack;  she  is  little,  but  has  such  a 
brave,  big  heart!  Oh,  my  lad,  there  are 
few  like  her!" 

''  I  know  it,"  said  Master  Jack,  nodding 
gravely  back  to  his  father. 


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